It was not 24 hours ago that Male Me sat down and made some serious commitments.

It's 09:00.  I'm stoned.  I'm turned on beyond words.  I'm immersed in a quick sexual jolt of porn-induced adrenaline.  Momentarily, I'm off to get dolled up.  Then hypnotized.

The voice that I hear as I write this is my own, sort of.  The very concept of "identity" is a sort of salad now, displaying different ingredients depending upon how you spear it.  

One fragment of personality, perhaps proud that I was as yet hetero-dressed and clear of mind, felt that he was winning a small victory, and the maybe there was fight left in the old lion.

Then, just as fast, my hand went click-click on the keyboard, and I was flooded with hyper-erotic sissy porn.  I sat sinking, transfixed, saturating in pure lust.  Within seconds the concept of "intention" changed ("I want to be productive" -->  "I want to be a faggot"), perspective changed, motive changed, and inevitably, the very notion of identity changed.  Then, another, more assertive fragment of personality said, "Oh, I have some fight left in me too!"  The voice was strong and proud; defiant.

I just took a jelly bean.  

I'm on a porn site.  I'm stoned.  By 10:00 I'll be dressed like a sissy faggot.  Submit.  Obey.